The President of the First National lounged in his chairhalf an hour longer， and then he lit a mild cigar， and wentover to Tom Merwin’s house. Merwin， a ranchman inbrown duck， with a contemplative eye， sat with his feetupon a table， plaiting a rawhide quirt.
“Tom，” said Longley， leaning against the table， “youheard anything from Ed yet？”
“Not yet，” said Merwin， continuing his plaiting. “I guessEd’ll be along back now in a few days.”
“There was a bank examiner，” said Longley， “nosingaround our place to-day， and he bucked a sight about thatnote of yours. You know I know it’s all right， but the thingis against the banking laws. I was pretty sure you’d havepaid it off before the bank was examined again， but theson-of-a-gun slipped in on us， Tom. Now， I’m short of cashmyself just now， or I’d let you have the money to take it upwith. I’ve got till twelve o’clock to-morrow， and then I’vegot to show the cash in place of that note or—”
“Or what， Bill？” asked Merwin， as Longley hesitated.
“Well， I suppose it means be jumped on with both ofUncle Sam’s feet.”
“I’ll try to raise the money for you on time，” saidMerwin， interested in his plaiting.
“All right， Tom，” concluded Longley， as he turned towardthe door； “I knew you would if you could.”
Merwin threw down his whip and went to the onlyother bank in town， a private one， run by Cooper & Craig.
“Cooper，” he said， to the partner by that name， “I’vegot to have 10，000 to-day or to-morrow. I’ve got a houseand lot there that’s worth about 6，000 and that’s all theactual collateral. But I’ve got a cattle deal on that’s sureto bring me in more than that much profit within a fewdays.”
Cooper began to cough.
“Now， for God’s sake don’t say no，” said Merwin. “I owethat much money on a call loan. It’s been called， and theman that called it is a man I’ve laid on the same blanketwith in cow-camps and ranger-camps for ten years. Hecan call anything I’ve got. He can call the blood out of myveins and it’ll come. He’s got to have the money. He’s in adevil of a—Well， he needs the money， and I’ve got to get itfor him. You know my word’s good， Cooper.”
“No doubt of it，” assented Cooper， urbanely， “but I’vea partner， you know. I’m not free in making loans. Andeven if you had the best security in your hands， Merwin，we couldn’t accommodate you in less than a week. We’rejust making a shipment of 15，000 to Myer Brothers inRockdell， to buy cotton with. It goes down on the narrowgaugeto-night. That leaves our cash quite short at present.Sorry we can’t arrange it for you.”
Merwin went back to his little bare office and plaitedat his quirt again. About four o’clock in the afternoonhe went to the First National Bank and leaned over therailing of Longley’s desk.
“I’ll try to get that money for you to-night—I mean tomorrow，Bill.”
“All right， Tom，” said Longley quietly.
At nine o’clock that night Tom Merwin steppedcautiously out of the small frame house in which he lived.
It was near the edge of the little town， and few citizenswere in the neighbourhood at that hour. Merwin woretwo six-shooters in a belt， and a slouch hat. He movedswiftly down a lonely street， and then followed the sandyroad that ran parallel to the narrow-gauge track until hereached the water-tank， two miles below the town. ThereTom Merwin stopped， tied a black silk handkerchief aboutthe lower part of his face， and pulled his hat down low.
In ten minutes the night train for Rockdell pulled up atthe tank， having come from Chaparosa.
With a gun in each hand Merwin raised himself frombehind a clump of chaparral and started for the engine.
But before he had taken three steps， two long， strong armsclasped him from behind， and he was lifted from his feetand thrown， face downward upon the grass. There was aheavy knee pressing against his back， and an iron handgrasping each of his wrists. He was held thus， like a child，until the engine had taken water， and until the train hadmoved， with accelerating speed， out of sight. Then he wasreleased， and rose to his feet to face Bill Longley.
“The case never needed to be fixed up this way， Tom，”
said Longley. “I saw Cooper this evening， and he told mewhat you and him talked about. Then I went down to yourhouse to-night and saw you come out with your guns on，and I followed you. Let’s go back， Tom.”
They walked away together， side by side.’Twas the only chance I saw，” said Merwin presently.
“You called your loan， and I tried to answer you. Now，what’ll you do， Bill， if they sock it to you？”
“What would you have done if they’d socked it to you？”
was the answer Longley made.
“I never thought I’d lay in a bush to stick up a train，”
remarked Merwin； “but a call loan’s different. A call’s acall with me. We’ve got twelve hours yet， Bill， before thisspy jumps onto you. We’ve got to raise them spondulickssomehow. Maybe we can—Great Sam Houston！ do youhear that？”
Merwin broke into a run， and Longley kept with him，hearing only a rather pleasing whistle somewhere in thenight rendering the lugubrious air of “The Cowboy’sLament.”
“It’s the only tune he knows，” shouted Merwin， as heran. “I’ll bet—”
They were at the door of Merwin’s house. He kicked itopen and fell over an old valise lying in the middle of thefloor. A sunburned， firm-jawed youth， stained by travel， layupon the bed puffing at a brown cigarette.
“What’s the word， Ed？” gasped Merwin.
“So， so，” drawled that capable youngster. “Just got in onthe 9：30. Sold the bunch for fifteen， straight. Now， buddy，you want to quit kickin’ a valise around that’s got 29，000in greenbacks in its in’ards.”
